


Twas the Night Before Christmas

by themanbeneaththehat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas traditions, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanbeneaththehat/pseuds/themanbeneaththehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John brings Sherlock home for Christmas for the first time and experiences a Watson family tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twas the Night Before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Let's Write Sherlock's 4th challenge: 1895 words, last word is "Obviously".

“Why did I agree to let you drag me along to this?” complained Sherlock, slumping down in his seat. The cab drove smoothly down the road of a residential neighborhood. The snow on the ground reflected the fairy lights strung up on each of the quaint little houses on the street creating a picturesque sight. Sherlock hated it.

“Because you love me. It’s only one night and we’re leaving in the morning. Now stop sulking, we’re almost there.” John leaned over to place a slightly patronizing yet affectionate kiss on his boyfriend’s temple. Sherlock didn’t stop sulking but he did shift to lean against John, who smiled warmly at the gesture.

The cab finally stopped in front of one of the houses and Sherlock reluctantly dragged himself out into the cold night air while John paid the fare. They went up the quaint little walkway and John knocked on the door while smiling at Sherlock again, squeezing his hand to reassure him that the night would not be as miserable as he thinks it will be. The door opened a few moments later to reveal none other than John’s mother. Martha Watson was wearing an holly patterned apron over a blue and white fair isle sweater, and the smell of a roasted turkey wafted out the door to greet them. “John!” she exclaimed, pulling her son into her arms for a loving hug.

“Hello, mum,” laughed John, returning the hug. He pulled away from her and then gestured to Sherlock beside him, “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock, Sherlock this is my mum, Martha.”

Sherlock held out his hand but Martha ignored it and pulled him into a hug as well, just as loving as the one she had given her son. “So good to finally meet you, Sherlock. Now come in, come in! It’s freezing out here.” She gestured them inside, where soft classical Christmas music was playing in the background. “You two are the last to arrive. Harry, Clara, and little Olive arrived about an hour ago. Clara’s helping me in the kitchen, so be sure to pop in to say hello. Dinner will be ready soon and you’re all set up in your old room, so go ahead and put your bags away then hurry back down,” she smiled. She beckoned them up the stairs before returning to the kitchen, humming along to the music as she went.

They put their bags in the room, and then walked back down the stairs and into the sitting room where Harry was chatting with her father, while Olive, their six year old daughter played with the Watson’s family dog on the floor. Olive squealed with delight at the sight of John and quickly ran to him, shouting happily “Uncle John! Uncle John!” He scooped her up in his arms for a big hug. She planted a kiss on his cheek and then beamed up at Sherlock, who she had taken a surprising liking to the one time they had met a few months previous. 

“Uncle Sherlock!” She leaned over in John’s arms to wrap her arms around Sherlock’s neck so she could kiss his cheek to. He smiled at her and said, “Hello, Olive.” She clambered to get out of John’s arms and into Sherlock’s, which to John’s surprise, Sherlock allowed, holding her up, hitched on his hip. He would never admit it to John, but Sherlock was just as fond of Olive as she was of him.

David Watson rose from his chair to greet his son with a hug, who then introduced him to Sherlock as well. Adjusting Olive in his arms, Sherlock shook his hand and nodded in greeting, saying, “Mr. Watson,” very formally. 

“Oh please, call me David,” he laughed, clapping Sherlock on the shoulder. “The way John goes on about you, you’re already considered part of the family.” John blushed at this and quickly turned to greet his sister. Sherlock greeted her with a perfunctory hello, which made Harry roll her eyes. She knew better than the believe the polite front Sherlock was putting on, but in the spirit of Christmas, decided not the point it out.

“Dinner is ready, everyone!” Clara called, from where she was setting the table and lighting the candles. 

 

***

Dinner was pleasant enough, though Sherlock was a little overwhelmed by the amount of food placed at the table and the constant chatter of conversation from those around him. Noticing him starting to retreat into his head, John placed a hand on Sherlock’s leg to pull him back, but with something to ground him a little bit. Sherlock placed his hand over John’s, feeling a little calmer. He had told John he would make an effort to be civil, and he was determined to keep his promise. It was easier than he had expected it would be.

He ate only a little bit of food, enough to be polite, though he imagined that John had already told his parents about his eating habits so that they wouldn’t be offended if he didn’t eat much. David was interested in hearing all about Sherlock’s life as a consulting detective, and Sherlock got so wrapped up in telling him about the latest case he hadn’t even noticed when Olive put a purple paper crown from a Christmas cracker on his head.

Soon, Olive began to squirm in her seat excitedly before finally exclaiming, “Presents! Presents! Presents!” She was itching to get to the Christmas tree to find one she could open. 

“I thought presents were traditionally opened on Christmas day, not Christmas Eve,” said Sherlock, a little confused. He wasn’t that unaware of traditions.

“Watson family tradition,” Martha informed him. “We all get to open one on Christmas Eve.”

“We always get new pyjamas!” Olive said. She was so excited Sherlock thought she was going to burst.

“Oh not this year, I’m afraid, my dear,” cooed Martha. “You’ve guessed it two years in a row so we decided to do something different this year.” Olive looked a little confused, unsure whether or not to believe her grandmother.

Before she could think much longer about it David scooped Olive up into his arms, “Come on little dove. Let’s see what you got this time.” He carried her as though she were flying into the sitting room, her delighted laughter filling the house. Everyone got up from the table, opting to worry about the mess until later, and followed Olive and David. 

David had sat in his chair with Olive in his lap, holding her tight against him while she laughed and wriggled about trying to get at the presents under the Christmas tree. Sherlock and John sat next to each other on the sofa, John’s hand once again resuming its place on Sherlock’s thigh. The other three took their places and then David finally released Olive who bolted to the tree to find her present.

“Pass them _all_ out, Olive,” said Clara fondly.

“Obviously,” Olive quipped. John smirked, knowing that she had learned that word from Sherlock at their first meeting.

Olive found the pile of presents she was looking for and began to plop a package down in each person’s lap. When she gave one to Sherlock, the man was startled, hardly expecting to be included in this tradition. He and John weren’t married the way Harry and Clara were. In fact, his and John’s relationship was relatively new, only six months in, even if they had been friends for longer. But he wasn’t technically family. “Oh, no, you really didn’t have to—“ he began before Martha interrupted.

“Of course we did, dear Sherlock. Everyone gets a present to open tonight. Why would you be the exception?”

“Because I’m not—“

“Yes, you are. You are important to John, which makes you important to all of us. You are family whether you like it or not,” she teased. 

Sherlock was unsure of what to say, so he looked at John with a small smile before turning back to Martha and saying with sincerity, “Thank you.”

When Olive finally had passed out all of the boxes, she began tearing at the paper of her own. When she finally opened the box and saw what was inside, she squealed with delight. “Pyjamas! I knew it! You didn’t trick me at all, grandma!” She pulled out light blue pajamas that were covered in sparkly snowflakes and snowmen with matching white fluffy slippers. She couldn’t have been more delighted. She threw her arms around Harry’s and Clara’s necks to hug them both, “Thank you, mommy! Thank you, mum!” 

Everyone else started to open their packages, and, just as Sherlock feared, they were all pulling out pyjamas. Martha and David had bought everyone else’s, as they were their parents. Finally lifting the lid off of his box, Sherlock revealed a pair of blue and green plaid pyjamas, the button down shirt and trousers both matching. Glancing over at John, he saw that the same pair were in John’s box as well. Dear god, they were going to be _that_ couple with the matching pyjamas now. John just laughed when he noticed the matching and rolled his eyes at his mother.

“Harry helped me with the sizing on yours, Sherlock,” explained Martha. Harry looked a little smug at that. She knew after their one and only meeting that Sherlock was not the type to do cute family traditions in good graces. Just to spite her, Sherlock gave Martha the warmest, most sincere smile he could muster. “Thank you very much, Martha. They’re wonderful.”

Martha looked thrilled. “Alright now! Everyone, pyjamas on, I’ll go get the camera!”

***

“Is this really necessary, John?” Sherlock complained, even as he unbuttoned his shirt in order to put on his new pyjamas. “We _match_. It’s all so… coupley.”

“Oh hush,” John chided, placing a kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “We are a couple. And pretend all you like, but I know that you’re secretly thrilled that my parents like you. And I know that you like them as well.”

“You could have at least warned me about this.” He gestured to the trousers he was pulling on.

“How was I supposed to know they would get you some? They’ve never even met you before tonight.”

“You still should have anticipated the possibility. They’re just the sort of people to do this kind of thing.”

“And what sort is that?”

Sherlock paused, trying to think of the right word, before finally settling on, “Loving.” John pulled him into a hug, never having expecting Sherlock to ever describe anyone in that way. Sherlock allowed himself to be enveloped in John’s plaid pyjama clad arms before he started trailing featherlight kisses up John’s neck, working his way up to the man’s earlobe which he then bit lightly, making John quietly groan. “These are probably the least sexy things I own now. How am I supposed to seduce you wearing these?”

“They are damn comfortable though, you have to admit,” teased John.

Sherlock smirked. “I will play along, for the sake of your mother. As long as I get to get you out of them later this evening.” He pulled John flush against him, but was distracted by Harry’s call from downstairs.

“Boys! Hurry up!” They could hear Olive’s laughter traveling up the stairs as she called for her uncles as well.

John grinned mischievously. “Obviously.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was drowning in angst from my other fic so I felt compelled to write complete and utter fluff. And what says fluff more than Christmas?
> 
> The pajama thing is something that my family does. As a little kid, I was basically Olive. I would always say that they were pajamas before we all opened them, and my parents, or aunts, or whoever, would always say "nooooo, we did something different this year!" But yeah, every Christmas Eve we get new pajamas so we have something shiny and new to wear on Christmas morning, and every Christmas Eve we're tortured with a family picture.
> 
> So I thought Sherlock could experience my family tradition for the first time.
> 
> And can't you just picture an outwardly disgruntled, but inwardly pleased Sherlock clad head to toe in plaid pajamas? The image is so adorable I just can't even function.


End file.
